It's Just Love (5 page)

Was she serious? She wanted to bring back the tradition of
allowing others to select one’s spouse?

“I’m sorry,” Coral said, unable to control her tongue, “but that’s
how the royalty of medieval Europe operated. Marry a girl, get a province.”

“Exactly.” Esther nodded, a narrow-lipped smile brightening
her sallow face. “You understand then.”

Coral tried to think of a coherent response, a way to
present her opinion to people better educated than she, but Martel beat her to
it. “Woman, are you crazy? That’s how those old royals ended up as
hemophiliacs. They just married one another until the gene pool went to hell.”
His voice rose in pitch. “And what does that have to do with love?”

The matchmaker fixed him with a stare. “It’s better than
what you do, setting up men for disgusting sessions of…” Her tone dropped. “…sex.”

“And what is wrong with sex?” Martel leapt to his feet,
joined by Esther. They stared at one another with contempt.

“Sex is for procreation,” she spat. “You pervert, with your
clients groping at one another like perverts, like you! Two men together, you
disgust me!”

“Who you calling disgusting?” he roared. “You wish you could
find a man who’d lay a finger on you, you old, dried-up—”

The neatly-suited woman shrieked and grabbed at Martel’s
dreadlocks. They fell to the floor, shouting epithets and throwing punches
while Coral stared, Harry grinned, and Gage’s jaw dropped. Was it a put-up
scene? Nothing she’d seen before indicated these two would resort to
violence…and with so little provocation. But when Esther clawed Martel’s face,
the dripping blood shocked her.

“We’ll be right back after this commercial,” said the host,
and a pair of young men raced onto the stage to separate the combatants. A
string of drool trickled from Esther’s mouth, and the formerly hip-attired
man’s shirt was shredded. “Thanks for coming on the show, folks. Follow these
guys to the gate.”

Esther gaped, her wig hanging from the back of her head, her
jacket missing buttons. “We have to leave?”

“Yep,” Harry said. “You’re a mess. But we’ll put you on the
list for next time we cover a topic you might enjoy discussing.”

“Two minutes, Harry.”

Coral looked up and saw a man in a booth above the audience
at the back of the room. He waved, and Harry nodded.

“Get these people out of here, please, and Dr. Middleton, if
you don’t mind, scoot down and sit next to Miss Nixie. Now, we can take care of
business.” Coral studied Gage’s face; twinkling eyes and a small smile lit his
features. His aura, smooth indigo with glints of gold confused her. She’d never
seen one like it before, but it made her instinctively like the man.

Stifling in the scarves wrapped around her neck and waist,
Coral yanked them off and dropped them behind her chair. If they were having a
thoughtful conversation, it was time to do it as herself. She didn’t intend to
be part of a three-ring circus or to look like a clown.

A generational witch held the dignity of the centuries, or
should.

Gage shifted to sit next to Coral Nixie. Without all those
enveloping, multicolored, and fringed scarves, she looked quite respectable,
for a witch. Surely she didn’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo? While she
answered a question about something, he allowed his gaze to wander from the top
of her silky-haired head to the pretty, tanned toes peeking out from under her
skirt. Sun-lightened waves fell over her shoulders, all different shades, from
dark strawberry to the platinum he’d noticed first. Natural—no salon could
equal a true summer blonde. And her cheeks bore the golden glow to match. His
fingers itched to trace the fine lines by her eyes.

Sun and humor. A combination that reminded him of the girls
on the beach when he’d been younger and had time. When he and Sid had taken his
new car to the shore, they’d dreamed of the day they’d be able to make the trip
in the Charger. Covering the leather seats of the Beamer with towels and making
sure their feet were free of sand before getting in, always afraid of damaging
something and having to hear about how expensive it was. Funny…he never even
thought about it being a BMW.

The corners of Coral’s lips went up as she smiled, matching
the up tilt at the corner of her cat’s eyes. Her high cheekbones and the smooth
line of her jaw made him think of a Scandinavian princess. The white tee she
wore tucked into her long, colorful skirt emphasized her peach blush, and he
followed its V neckline to find a silver circle with a half circle facing out
from each side. Dangling there. The curves it caressed made him jealous of a
silly ornament for its nearness to such glowing skin.

“Mr. Middleton?”

Heat rushed from his neck to his cheeks. With no tan to
disguise it, he must be red as a beet. How humiliating. “I beg your pardon? I
didn’t hear the question.” It galled him to have been so lost on national
television. Maybe the witch did have some kind of magic.
Right.

Montclief grinned at him, and Gage peeled his lips back from
his teeth in what he hoped resembled a pleasant smile. A wink from Coral didn’t
help, but it did help him want her a little less. Maybe.

“I asked if you would mind if we focused on the topic at
hand, now that we’ve cleared the stage of the combatants.” He grimaced at the
audience and nodded as they roared and clapped in response. “Let’s get down to
talking about what we’re all interested in. What is love?”

Was he kidding? Another burst of applause. The largely
female group seemed delighted to address such an esoteric topic. With Aaron and
his publisher in mind, Gage strove to clarify the issue. “What we think of as
love is a complex chemical reaction to a number of stimuli. Pheromones, the
instinct to reproduce, the human urge to connect, not to be alone. Females in
particular seek a protector, a good provider. All these instincts combine to
tell the woman she’s found a good mate. “

“So the dinosaurs won’t eat our young?” Coral asked.

“Coral,” Harry said, “I gather you’d like to weigh in?”

“Well, apparently your other guest—Gage, is it?—believes
that women are a helpless bunch who are only looking for a man to support us.
What’s the name of your book, Gage?” She arched one dark blonde eyebrow, her
emerald eyes sparkling with ire. “Please.” She waved in front of her. “I’m sure
everyone here would like to know, wouldn’t you, ladies?”

His eyes focused on the rose-glossed, full lips spilling
derision of his work. The tip of a pink tongue swept along the full lower
curve, disappearing back into her mouth. His thoughts fled, all except an
uncanny urge to lean closer, to thread his fingers in her wealth of soft, shiny
hair in all the colors of gold, to—

Oh, shit, he’d done it again. What magic did she hold to
distract him so much? He wanted to shake her and kiss her and…
Ridiculous.
Clearly a product of his upsetting breakup with Geena. He’d be himself in a day
or two.

“My book,” he said, leaning away from the sun goddess of
temptation, “is called
The Factors
.”

“And does this tome of information help women to catch the
protector
she’s always wanted?”

A hiss from the audience frightened him enough to snap out
of his haze of fascination. He needed to pull it together and stop making a
fool of himself or his first national audience would be his last. He cast a
look at his lap and sidled a little farther away from the witch. And she was
one, using enhanced womanly wiles to bring him under her spell.

“Not at all,” he said, proud of the smooth tone he managed
to produce even under difficult—and very public—circumstances. “
The Factors
is a book for men and women. It provides a list of ten compatibility factors
which predict success in a long-term relationship.” Comfortable with his topic,
he leaned forward, addressing each row of the audience, using the techniques
he’d learned to capture each member’s attention. “It is our nature to seek
another, to find a partner for life, isn’t that right, ladies?”

Derision fled, and the women seemed to respond, nodding and
whispering to one another.

“I postulate that two people with enough in common can make
it work. I even give a little test at the end that a potential couple can take
to see what their chances are of surviving together in the long term. After
all, who wants to wake up after two years, or twenty, to find they’ve wasted
their time? That the person who seemed so interesting, so charming, is really
their polar opposite? That they have attempted to form a lasting bond with
someone who has become a stranger, who always was a stranger, despite the
hormones that made them think otherwise.”

“And…” Harry reached over and patted Gage’s hand. “I hope
you don’t mind my cutting in here.”

“Not at all.” Gage rested against the back of his padded
chair, pleased he’d regained control of himself and his listeners. “Did you
have a question for me?”

Harry took a drink from the big white mug emblazoned with
the HM logo and replaced the cup on the small table at his side. “While I feel
we’ve strayed from my question, we can get back to that after the next break.
Why don’t you tell us—what does it take to be happy together?”

Gage stretched his legs out and sat more comfortably.
Despite his initial concern, and the bizarre guests who had tussled earlier,
the interview was not very different from his previous appearances on PBS
channels and a couple of local talk shows. “Glad to, Harry. I tell my clients
that the more of the factors they have in common, the greater their chance of
success.”

“For example?” Harry’s round face held nothing but kindness,
a pleasant interest in his guests.

“For example, their five-year plan.” One of his favorites.
“Where does each person see him or herself at the end of that time?”

“What?” Coral stared as if he’d grown two heads. “Love is
based on a five-year plan? How can love be part of any plan? It’s a gift from
the universe, from God, Goddess…whoever we turn to for comfort in the night.
It’s magic.”

Magic, hah. He’d be pleased to enlighten the little witch.

“Let me clarify. Let’s say the woman—you, for example, Miss
Nixie—see yourself married and the mother of two children by that point. The
potential other half of the couple—say, me—I envision being still on a career
path that takes up much of my time. We have a huge hurdle to overcome, and in
that situation, I think it would be best to look elsewhere for a potential
mate.”

Coral’s jaw dropped, a pucker forming between her eyebrows.
Her fingers whitened on the arms of her chair. He shifted away, a little
gun-shy after the fracas between the earlier guests.

“Why how gracious of you to let me down gently,” she said, a
sweet smile lighting her face. “It would have been so disappointing to continue
pursuing you only to find I didn’t meet your high standards of compatibility.”

Silence from the audience worried him, but a glance showed
he had their attention. A lot of it. Every woman, and most of the smattering of
men, faced forward, silent and focused. Panic fizzing in his veins, he attempted
to salvage the situation. “Yes, there is no point in two people attempting to
make a life together when their five-year plans differ so drastically.”

“What if they don’t have a five-year plan?” Coral’s question
seemed to unlock the rest of the studio from a trance. A buzz of whispers from
the women in the tiers made him wonder for a moment. “I—for example—have no
such schedule in mind.”

* * * *

“No five-year plan?” Gage’s tone held astonishment and
horror. “Everyone has a five-year plan.”

She laughed. At his expression, his shock…at herself for the
attraction she’d been fighting the whole time they sat on stage. When he used
them as an example, he’d struck too close to home. And even outside by the
cars, despite his jerky attitude, she’d been drawn to him, interested in
getting to know him against her better judgment.

His designer clothes that enhanced his broad shoulders and
trim waist screamed money. His shoes must have cost a month’s mortgage payment
for her cottage at the beach.

But he had a beautiful smile. His eyes were a deep blue
she’d never seen the Pacific reproduce, a lot like the shimmering depths of the
Atlantic in the late afternoon, with the same golden glints, like sunlight
sparkling on calm water. And he smelled wonderful—clean and masculine. His cologne
held a note of sandalwood. Everything she liked.

And nothing she wanted. He had theories and factors and a
five-year
plan
. With a sigh, she tried to force down the libido he’d awakened from a
long sleep. She rarely allowed anyone past casual, and there hadn’t been a man
in her life for a while.

“That’s right, Doctor. Some people have no five-year plan.”
The sooner this charade was over, the better. Tom’s charm and personality had
tricked her into this mistake. If not a toad, perhaps just some extra hair
growing out of his ears? The image cheered her.

“We’ll be back after this message from our sponsors.” A few
lights dimmed, and they were off the air. An assistant ran in to refill Harry’s
cup and offer drinks to Coral and Gage. “When we start again,” said Harry, “I
will ask a question, and you will both follow my lead. Got it?” His jovial
appearance remained, but his voice had changed. Low and commanding. Used to
being obeyed.

Coral shivered, watching the colors of his aura shift into a
throbbing red. His friendly, casual demeanor in front of the audience was an
act. Harry Montclief dealt with things of the darkness, as well as the light.
Perhaps his success didn’t stem entirely from talent and good fortune. She
swallowed, wishing herself anywhere but where she was.

Leaning away, she bumped the elbow of the man on her other
side. And she shivered for another reason. Electricity ran up her arm. Glancing
to her right, she watched Gage’s aura, almost the same color as his indigo and
gold eyes. Despite his delusions, he was a good man with an old soul. It was a
shame they’d never get to know one another in this life—maybe some other time.